


Sweet Like You

by Kawagea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cutesy, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Milkshakes, Romance, so much fluff oh god, they're both saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawagea/pseuds/Kawagea
Summary: They've fought in wars, almost died for each other, and, recently, made the transition from 'platonic' to 'romantic'. But the one thing Steve and Bucky have never done is go on a date. Bucky decides this is an issue that can't go unresolved, and Steve discovers his talent for blurring the line between 'sweet' and 'cheesy'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution for the blessed #softstuckyweek, organized by @iamnotsebastianstan on tumblr. I'm posting this late because apparently I _suck_ at time management. Oh lord. So, whilst it's probably not my most refined work, it's definitely my softest and fluffiest.

“We should go on a date.”

Steve glances up from his book, eyebrow raised. It's hours after dark and the lights in the living room aren’t the best, but the blush on Bucky's cheeks is visible even from where he's sitting. “A date?”

Bucky shrugs in a non-committed manner, but it doesn't take a genius to see that this means a lot to him. He's tucked his hair behind his ears, for one thing; that never happens, unless he's nervous.

“Yeah,” he says, “a date. We never got to date before the war, and now that I'm back we just - happened."

Steve nods, marking his page and putting aside his book. “It could be fun,” he muses. “You got anywhere you wanna go?”

Bucky's face lights up like a child on Christmas day. “There’s this milkshake place-”

“Of course. Food.” Steve rolls his eyes, eliciting a huff from Bucky.

“Hey, I’ve got a lotta catching up to do. Barely ate for seventy years.”

“Neither did I! I don't eat half the amount you do."

Bucky casts him a look of disapproval. "Well, that's your loss," he says. "But, c'mon, _Natasha_ recommended it. It can't be too bad, right?"

Steve snorts. Bucky trusts Natasha on most things; she’s earned herself quite the reputation, in his eyes, as a connoisseur of the twenty-first century. Steve’s taste is different, but he supposes a milkshake would be nice - and a date with Bucky wouldn't go amiss either. It's about time, and Bucky's enthusiasm is weirdly encouraging. "I guess not. I'd love to go on a date with you, Buck. Anywhere you like."

Bucky beams. "Tomorrow, then?" he asks, although the tone in his voice suggests it's already decided.

"Sounds great, baby," says Steve, and slings an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. Bucky leans into him, resting his head on Steve's broad shoulder and closing his eyes. Steve kisses the top of his head, breathing in his warm, familiar scent.

*

As it turns out, the milkshake place is actually an ice-cream parlour. Steve isn't sure there's much of a difference - both products are made of milk, right? - but he doesn't bother to bring up this observation. They decide to walk; despite it being late in the year, it's not awfully cold, and the place is only five minutes away. Driving seems pointless, and Bucky isn't awfully fond of car journeys.

The sky is a clear blue, and the sun is beginning to set by the time they set off. As they walk, Steve can’t help but glance over at Bucky. He's wearing a white shirt, with a black button up jacket and plain jeans, and his hair is in a bun. It’s a good look, and a change from his usual carefree style.

Steve smiles softly. It's obvious how much this date means to Bucky - more than that, how much being _together_ means to him. Steve feels the same; it's a mix of nervousness, and joy, and it's _good_. This simple act is something they'd never have dreamed of having back in the 1930's, but now it's here, so real and vivid. Steve takes a deep breath, slipping his fingers into Bucky's and holding onto the moment.

After a few minutes of walking - mostly in silence, but with a few remarks here and there - Bucky comes to a sudden stop.

“We’re here,” he announces, nodding towards the building beside them with an air of something like pride. It’s a small place, with windows that, for the building's size, are almost too big. Steve peers through them, noting the random tables and chairs, and a counter lined with various ice-cream related machinery at the back. There’s a few people here and there, but not too many - enough to provide a comfortable atmosphere, but hardly a crowd.

Bucky smiles at Steve and pushes open the door. A bell rings as they enter, and one or two people glance up, but quickly resume their conversations. A waitress, busy scribbling something down, smiles at them from behind the counter and signals to them to find their own seats. Bucky smiles back, already undoing the top button of his jacket as he leads Steve further inside and sits him at a table in a secluded corner. Steve approves of this choice. Sitting to the side feels a lot safer than open, exposed, in the middle of the room.

Steve shrugs off his own coat and hangs it over the back of his chair, pulling himself closer to the table. Bucky passes him a menu, already engrossed in one himself. Steve frowns as he scans over the options. Some - such as the oreo ice-cream milkshake with whipped cream and sprinkles - sound delicious, whilst others sound so intolerable Steve can’t believe any human being would willingly consume. The spinach and pumpkin smoothie comes to mind. _Why_.

After a few moments Bucky leans back in his chair, fixing Steve with a lazy smile. “I know what I’m having,” he says. “You decided yet?”

Steve nods. “Strawberry shortcake.”

“Nice and sweet,” remarks Bucky, letting out a short laugh, “like you.”

Steve feels his cheeks grow warm. “What’re you getting?”

“Double chocolate smore,” Bucky says, with a hint of pride in his tone. “It comes in extra large.”

“Of course.” Steve casts Bucky a teasing look of disapproval and goes to stand up. Bucky frowns.

“Where you going?”

“To order.”

Bucky snorts. “Jesus, Steve, I’m taking you on a date, not the other way round. I’ve got this.”

Steve sighs, but sits back down. If he’s honest, he’s glad. Less social interaction equals less chance of being recognized. People are usually good about respecting him - especially since he retired - but this time is for him, and Bucky. “If you’re sure,” he says, though, because he’s too stubborn to let Bucky know he’s backing down.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky chirps, standing up. “I won’t forget your order. Or you.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest the joke, but Bucky simply grins at him and strides over to the counter. There’s no line, and Steve watches as he leans on the wooden surface, a confident expression on his face. It’s partly an act; Bucky has always been a nervous person, even before the war. When he started therapy last year, his self-confidence did spike, but Steve knows his original quiet demeanor is still under the surface.

A few seconds later a waitress - the same one that welcomed them in - pops up and Bucky begins to talk. The waitress glances over at Steve, smiles brightly, and waves. Steve waves back, his brow creased in a light frown. She hurries away to prepare the shakes and Bucky slinks back over.

“What was that about?” asks Steve.

Bucky blinks. “What?”

“The smile. Did she recognize me?”

“No, no.” Bucky waves a hand dismissively. “I just told her we're on a date, so to give you extra cream. She said how great it was to see us so happy together. Apparently she started dating a girl a few weeks ago, and I was the first person she's told.”

Steve feels his heart swell, and he stares fondly at Bucky for a moment. "I'm glad we're rolemodels," he quips, but the sentiment is genuine. It feels good.

The corner of Bucky's mouth curves into a smile and he sinks back into his chair, leaning back.

“Who knew we’d end up here?” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair.

“What, in a milkshake café?” Steve teases.

Bucky scowls. “I’m tryin’ to have a moment, Steve.”

Steve throws his hands up. “Well, sorry for making a joke,” he says innocently, but his smirk gives him away.

Bucky rolls his eyes, sitting forwards and opening his mouth to say something. Before he can speak, though, the waitress is standing right besides their table. She smiles breezily and sets down her tray, putting each of their milkshakes in front of them.

“Enjoy!” she singsongs, and practically prances away.

Steve pulls his shake towards him, taking a moment to admire it in all it’s pastel-pink frothiness before taking a small sip. Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t hesitate, closing his eyes as he slurps up his own drink. It’s a mess; chocolate and - well, Steve doesn’t even have words to describe it. It looks like a volcano erupted, only it spewed sugar and chocolate instead of lava. Bucky seems to enjoy it.

Steve’s own shake is good, too. It’s subtly sweet, fruity, and with crumbled shortcake sprinkled on top of the excess of cream. He picks up his spoon and scoops up a puff of it, watching with amusement in his eyes as Bucky licks chocolate sauce off his finger.

“Good?” Steve asks, taking a breath. His milkshake is delicious, but it’s also heavy and sweet, and he hopes Bucky doesn’t have any other food-related activities planned for the day.

Bucky nods. “Wanna try?”

“Sure.” Steve slides his own milkshake across to Bucky, and Bucky pushes his to Steve. He takes a sip, and - oh, jesus, that’s sweet. It’s creamy-chocolately and probably nothing more than pure sugar and cream. Although it is, admittedly, good, it’s also so thick he feels he can’t breathe.

He wrinkles his nose. “How much sugar’s in this thing?”

Bucky shrugs, taking a small sip of Steve’s strawberry shake before swapping the drinks back. “Who cares?” he says. “It tastes good.”

Steve snorts. “So much for being healthy,” he says, leaning down to take another sip of his shake. He find himself looking at Bucky, letting his gaze trail over his soft features, the small bit of squishiness on his cheeks, his gentle grey eyes. His hair is falling in his face, dark strands brushing at his jaw, and before Steve can think twice he reaches out and tucks them behind Bucky’s ear.

Bucky looks up to meet Steve’s eyes, his small smile warmed by the sudden blush of his cheeks. “Steve,” he says fondly, “you're - you've got cream on your nose.”

“Wanna lick it off?”

“You wish,” Bucky snorts, holding a napkin out for him. Steve sticks out his nose, a small smile playing on his face, and Bucky rolls his eyes. He gently wipes the cream off his boyfriend’s nose, cupping his face in his metal hand. Steve shivers at the cold touch, but doesn’t pull away until Bucky is done.

Bucky studies him for a moment with those soft grey eyes of his, then gives an easy smile. He leans back in his chair, slurping up the last dregs of his shake and putting his glass down with a little more force than necessary. He grabs the straw, licking the cream off it.

“So,” he says, all casual and smooth, reminiscent of the way he used to talk before the war. “You enjoying yourself?”

"It's great," says Steve, and frowns when Bucky's face falls a little. "No, really! I mean it. I know I might've seemed a little reluctant - I don't know, did I? I'm sorry - but I'm so glad I agreed to this. You're amazing, Buck. Thank you."

Bucky hides his face in his hands. "Steve, I-" he trails off, shaking his head and meeting Steve's eyes. "It's okay. I know we've got different interests, and - yeah, I was worried you might not like this sorta thing, but - you're happy?"

Steve finishes up the last of his shake, licking the straw clean and leaning back in his chair. "Of course I am."

He glances around the café, eyes trailing over the walls, dotted with paintings and old photos. It’s not busy - only three other groups. He finds himself drawn to a man and women. They’re a couple, and it's not hard to tell from their sappy, over-the-top behaviour; sharing quick kisses, laughing, touching each other’s face. Steve squints, and sees on the woman’s hand the flash of a silver ring.

Marriage. It isn’t something he’d ever thought at length about. With Peggy, he _could_ have imagined it, but it was the war and the only thing anyone cared about was making sure their loved ones were even alive. What about Bucky? Steve glances at him, chest warming with a flurry of emotions. Very mixed emotions, and none of them negative, but - marrying Bucky? Would Bucky even want to? They’re together, sure, and Steve loves him - so much - but he’d never thought of Bucky as potentially being his husband. Not to say he wouldn’t say yes - as his mind dwells on it, he knows he would - but before now, their relationship hadn’t really been defined. It had just _been_. Steve and Bucky, in love, and who cares in what way?

Even if they are on a date.

“Bucky,” Steve says with a sigh, breaking the silence. Bucky looks up, putting down the menu he was reading. He fixes Steve with that bright grey gaze and Steve feels his heart skip a beat. “I love you. Romantically.”

“That’s-” Bucky breaks off, studying Steve’s eyes. “O-oh, you’re being genuine?”

Steve scowls. Way to ruin the moment.

“I love you too, punk,” Bucky says, leaning across the table and planting a quick kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Romantically. Is that even a word?”

Steve smiles shyly, feeling his cheeks warm. “Who cares?”

Bucky sits up. “I do,” he retorts, taking on a tone of mock offense. He manages to hold it for a second or two before letting out a laugh. “Okay, are you finished? There’s something else I got planned, if you’re up for it.”

Steve nods, reaching for his coat as Bucky stands up. “‘Course I am. I’m not that old.”

“Whatever you say, _honey_.” Bucky reaches for his wallet. Steve looks up at him, a small frown creasing his face.

“No.” Bucky’s tone is firm as he walks over to the counter. “I’m paying, okay? I brought us here.”

Steve can’t argue with that again. He shrugs on his coat and stands up, pushing in his own chair and then Bucky’s. He neatens up the table, putting the menus back in their holders and folding the napkins.

“Having fun?”

Steve spins around at the sound of Bucky’s voice. He’s wearing a smirk, eyes dancing with amusement. Steve nods defiantly.

“It’s polite,” he says, reaching for his coat zipper and tugging it up.

“I know,” says Bucky, patting his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

And when Steve starts to walk, he feels Bucky’s fingers slip into his. He glances at Bucky, heart beating a little faster. Bucky blushes, his cool demeanor melting away. He gives Steve’s hand a squeeze. “I love you,” he murmurs, and pushes open the door. “A lot.”

&&

“The park?”

Bucky smiles, leading Steve off the sidewalk and through the black steel gates. “Thought it’d be nice,” he says, letting go of Steve’s hand as they reach a quiet grassy spot. They sit down, and Steve shuffles closer to Bucky.

The local park isn’t anything fancy or big. In fact, it’s main purpose seems to be a convenient place for people to exercise their dogs without actually doing any exercise themselves. This is only encouraged by the abundance of benches, which seem to receive more care than the trees - or any other part of the park, come to think of it. Steve isn’t sure it’s even classed as a park; it feels more like a tiny nature reserve. Still, there’s a certain beauty, the ruggedness of it, and the beginning of the sunset turns the atmosphere a warm orange. 

Steve glances over at Bucky, watching as he plucks grass absent-mindedly, trying to tie two blades together. There’s a look of concentration on his face, and it makes Steve want to laugh. It’s such a pointless activity, but Bucky looks like he’s defusing a bomb. Steve should know; he’s seen it for real a few times.

A feeling of calm spreads through Steve’s body. It’s an unfamiliar sensation. His whole life has been riddled with loss, war, death, and it’s left its mark on him. Even now, when they couldn’t be more domestic if they tried, Steve still finds himself waking from nightmares or avoiding people for days, because all his mind can see is the terrible things he’s endured. But sitting here, with Bucky - so real Steve can reach out and touch him - Steve feels at ease. This is where he’s meant to be, even though ‘this’ isn’t a place, it’s Bucky. Bucky is more home to him than anywhere else on the earth, and Steve is more than okay with that. He runs his hand down Bucky’s metal arm, distracting him from his grass-tying.

“Can I kiss you?” The words come out without thought, but Steve doesn’t wish to take them back. Bucky looks at him, his mouth opening for a moment, and then nods. He seems surprised that Steve sought permission, or maybe it’s surprise at the request for a kiss itself. Either way, his face relaxes and he leans closer to Steve without hesitation.

Steve cups the back of Bucky’s head with his hand, tangling his fingers through his hair as he pulls him even closer. He feels Bucky’s lips brush against his, feels his warm breath on his face, and for a moment he closes his eyes and relishes in the tenderness of the moment. Bucky has no such patience, and without further delay he presses his mouth to Steve’s, and then all Steve knows is the feel of Bucky’s rough face on his, and his familiar clean smell, tinged with chocolate and grass.

Bucky lets out a soft sigh, only to whimper when Steve bites his lower lip. He runs his tongue along it, then lets go, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s back and holding him almost too tight as he kisses into his mouth. Bucky runs his hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve thinks his heart might explode - from love, or the excitement of the kiss, or both. He moans a little at the feel of Bucky’s tongue, and then pulls away, taking in a deep breath.

Bucky meets his eyes, and laughs, ducking his head. “That was-”

“Good,” Steve supplies.

Bucky nods. “Intense. But yeah. Good. Did anyone...see?”

Steve gestures to the rest of the park. “Only the birds. No-one else is here, so - what is the time?”

Bucky frowns, fumbling for his phone. The sun has turned into a vibrant orange, hazing into cream on the horizon where the pollution is too thick. It’s a shame; it'd be a lovely scene if the sky were clear.

“Wow,” Bucky says, nodding at his phone screen. “Five thirty.”

“Oh,” breathes Steve, moving away from Bucky - only a little. He meets his eyes. “You ready to leave? We can grab takeout on the way home.”

Bucky’s face lights up at the suggestion, and he nods. “Sounds great, baby,” he says, then scrunches up his nose. “ _Baby_. What’s happened to me?”

Steve rolls his eyes, standing up and then offering Bucky a hand. “I think it’s cute,” he says. “Sweet. Like you.”

“God, Steve,” Bucky says, scowling, but even in the fading light there’s a visible tinge of pink to his cheeks. He wraps his jacket around himself, but doesn’t bother to do it up. The air is mild, a slight chill to the breeze, and for an autumn evening it’s nice.

Bucky glances up at the sky, squinting. Steve follow his gaze. It’s a violet-blue color, no clouds, a few faint stars beginning to reveal themselves as the sun sinks. He looks back to Bucky, who appears somewhat pained.

“I wish we could see the stars better,” he murmurs, “I swear they used to be clearer.”

Steve smiles, a little sadly. It’s the smile he always has when their shared past is brought up. Nostalgic and longing, but fond. “They did,” he says, resting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “But y’know what?”

Bucky looks at Steve, frowning. “What?”

“The stars in your eyes make up for it.”

Bucky turns red, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god,” he whispers, and - is he laughing? “Steve, that’s so cheesy. I mean, it’s adorable, but - _wow_.”

Steve snorts, reaching out to take Bucky’s hand and beginning to walk back along the path to the gate, in no rush. And although it’s the second time in the space of two hours he’s said it, he still feels the same flurry of emotion as the words leave his mouth: “I love you.”


End file.
